


Chasing Rabbits

by coricomile



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Furry, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:55:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24449227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coricomile/pseuds/coricomile
Summary: This isn't for him, but it's not just for Pete, and the space in between that he's left in is blurred and sweet.
Relationships: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Kudos: 16





	Chasing Rabbits

**Author's Note:**

> Cleaning out the backlog. This was for a kink bingo many, many years ago.

Patrick looks at himself in the mirror and traces the freckles and scars and stray patches of stubble with his eyes. The light makes his skin look yellow and washed out, circles under his eyes and hollows under his cheeks. He wipes away the fog on the glass with his arm and his reflection blurs away.

Even though he's toweled off, his hair is still damp and his skin feels clammy with water that hasn't left it yet. Still, he pulls on his boxers and heads toward the bedroom. He's running late and Pete's waiting for him.

The air conditioning is on high, sterile air pumping through the house at fifty-one degrees even. Patrick's skin goosepimples and his nipples go tight and hard as he leaves the warmth of the bathroom. He runs a flat hand over one of them absently, trying to warm himself up.

His suit is spread out on the bed, the arms and legs of it folded and pinned at the cuffs to his size. It's a soft white, the tummy a light pink. The fluffy socks and gloves don't quite match, but Patrick just eyes them and hopes that Pete won't notice. The head, bulky and wide, faces the opposite wall.

Patrick sits on the edge of the mattress and reaches for the socks. They barely clear his ankles, maybe just a size too small. The long ends of the legs should cover what the socks don't, and he's glad he didn't rent the costume because the dirt from the hems dragging the floor isn't nearly going to be the worst of the damage. Patrick stares down at his feet and wiggles his toes.

The suit is soft, soft, soft; shaggy plush that feels almost like velvet, the tiny fibers bending under his fingers as pulls it over his lap. It feels cool and slick against his thighs and he shivers, dick twitching in his boxers. This isn't for him, but it's not just for Pete, and the space in between that he's left in is blurred and sweet. Addictive.

He lifts one leg and slips it inside the suit. The inner lining is silk, smooth and slick and cool against his skin. He carefully puts his other leg through and slides off the bed, socks slipping a little on the wood of the floor. Patrick fits his arms in through the sleeves and shrugs the suit on, the zipper resting cold and metallic on his bare chest.

The zipper runs from just under his belly button all the way up to his neck, hidden between layers of plush. The tab goes up almost too easily, silent and sure. Patrick presses the tab down and makes sure it's hidden under his collar before reaching for the gloves.

He saves the head for last. It's large but light, made of a material Patrick can't figure out. There's big, blue eyes painted above a pink triangle nose and a stitched on mouth. Twin ears stick up stiffly from the top of it, white outsides and pink insides. Patrick bends one's wires, just a little, and the ear flops slightly. It looks playful and sweet. Pete will like it.

With the head on, his vision tunnels. He can see, but everything's hazy, a little dark behind the fine grid of the eyeholes. He secures the head to its buttons at the collar of the suit and takes a deep breath. A bead of sweat runs from his hairline to the small of his back, skin already hot from being confined. He's ready.

Pete is in the guest room, sitting on the edge of the bed and reading. He sits up straighter when Patrick walks in, his book thunking to the floor as he lets go of it. His eyes go wide. Awed. Patrick feels pride swell in his chest as Pete scrambles to his feet, his bare knees knocking together in the cold.

They don't speak. Patrick lies on the bed, head and shoulders propped against the headboard. Pete, bare down to his toes, climbs in next to him and presses against his side, wrapping around him as much as he can. Patrick lies still, breathing shallowly in the cavernous head. He feels dizzy, giddy. Pete's feet are pressed to his calf, his arms around Patrick's chest, his face buried in the plush of Patrick's shoulder.

Pete rubs his cheek over the fur and sighs softly. His eyes stay open, tracking the way his moving fingers bend the plush and turn it lighter and darker in turn. For a long while, he lays still, holding Patrick tightly to him like an overlarge teddy bear.

And this- the sweet, childish smile spreading across Pete's face- this is worth the costume and dry cleaning bills. The feel of the tension draining away from his shoulders is worth the weird looks and awkward conversations about velvet versus velveteen. The kiss pressed to the furry spot above Patrick's heart is worth everything.

When Pete shifts, Patrick can feel the hot, hard line of Pete's dick pressing against his thigh through the suit. It's his cue that he's allowed to move, and he does, wrapping his arm around Pete's back and pulling him around gently. He guides Pete between his spread thighs, letting his arms drop to rest at the small of Pete’s back, holding more than leading.

Pete rocks forward against him, a smooth roll of his hips that makes Patrick’s fingers tingle. His hands on Patrick’s shoulders, heavy and a little painful, support his weight as he does it again, his chin falling against his chest as he sighs. Patrick’s cock is warm against his stomach, hard since he’d walked into the room, and he has to bite his lip to keep silent, eyes slipping shut as Pete rubs against the plush of his suit shamelessly.

“Please,” Pete says, quiet and soft. He clings to Patrick’s shoulders like a child as Patrick rolls them over gently, laying back on the bed when Patrick settles over top of him.

Patrick crawls down across Pete’s body, stomach dragging over his chest and hips and thighs. Pete shivers, head tipping back against the pillows. He reaches down and pets between Patrick’s ears with one hand. Patrick can feel the pressure through the thick material of the head and presses up into it, nuzzling his cheek against the inside of Pete's raised knee.

If he were naked, too, he'd be kissing the old surgery scar, licking across Pete's warm skin until he reached the crook of his thigh. As it is, he presses the stitching of the mouth against Pete's hip and rubs it there, tasting the plasticky inside of the head in his own mouth.

The crooked ear is brushing against Pete's dick feathery light, a constant up and down as Patrick rubs his cheek over Pete's hip, over Pete's stomach. Pete sighs into each touch, rocking up absently. His fingers curl into the plush at the top of Patrick's head but neither push nor pull, fingertips restless. Patrick runs his own hands up Pete's thighs and back down again, reaching awkwardly to wrap his fingers around Pete's ankles.

Patrick tips his head and runs his cheek over Pete's cock slowly. He closes his eyes at the soft moan it brings, lifting himself up with hands on either side of Pete's shoulders.

He mimics Pete's position from before, settling between Pete's raised knees and pressing himself full body against him. He sucks in a breath at the pressure against his dick, hips jerking involuntarily. He braces himself against the mattress and rolls his hips, dropping his head awkwardly against Pete's shoulder.

He goes slow, rubbing more than thrusting, curled around as much of Pete as he can be. Pete kisses the head, wraps his arms under Patrick's and over Patrick's shoulders, holding on and dragging him down. His eyes have slipped shut, but his mouth is open, a quiet current of yes and please and Patrick muffled into the fur of Patrick's shoulder.

He comes against the suit, arms and legs locking around Patrick as he lets the shakes work their way through him. Patrick ignores the painful throbbing of his cock and holds still, letting Pete cuddle against him for the moment.

Pete rolls them over, reaching up to undo the buttons at Patrick's collar. They pop free easily, and Patrick sucks in a breath of fresh air as Pete pulls the head off and sets it to the side. The coolness of the room feels good against his overheated skin, and Pete's mouth against his is sweet and warm and familiar.

Pete tugs down the zipper, shoving the suit off Patrick's shoulders. The sleeves get caught against Patrick's elbows, but he's too distracted by Pete's mouth against his stomach to really care.

Pete plants a hand in the center of Patrick's chest and noses the slit of Patrick's boxers, pushing at it until Patrick's cock slips through it, hot and hard against his cheek. Patrick sucks in another breath and forces himself to keep his eyes open as Pete sucks him in, mouth slick and almost too hot around him.

It's fast and dirty, and Patrick has to press up against the weight of Pete's hand, groaning as he feels heat pooling in his stomach. Pete grabs blindly for one of Patrick's hands and yanks his glove off, wrapping it awkwardly around his fingers. When he pinches Patrick's nipple, it's pain and softness and pleasure wrapped into one strong tug, and Patrick comes into Pete's mouth, arching up as far as Pete will let him.

Together, they wrestle Patrick's arms and legs from the suit, pushing it off the bed to the floor. Patrick toes off his socks, and Pete strips his other glove from him, dropping it over the edge of the mattress to join the rest of the costume. There are bits of fluff sticking to both of them, white and pink and downy, but Patrick can't be bothered to begin picking them off. Pete rests against him, loose and sleepy, and presses a kiss to Patrick's bare shoulder.

"Thank you," he says, yawning. Patrick hums and kisses the cowlick at the crown of Pete's head. There's a raccoon suit in Pete's size in the mail. Patrick smiles and dozes off, warm and content.


End file.
